


Chris Argent's Monster

by transfemmefatale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: : (, Autumn, Canon Divergent, Cora Died in the Hale Fire, Derek killed Peter for good and became an alpha, He is v lonely, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8372692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transfemmefatale/pseuds/transfemmefatale
Summary: Scott disappears on Halloween night and Stiles reluctantly convinces Derek to help find him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't plan on adding any content warning tags, BUT there will be potentially triggering content.
> 
> 8tracks playlist for this fic: https://8tracks.com/borednerd/sterek-halloween-mix
> 
> Read at your own discretion.

Everyone is going to shit when they see what Stiles has spent the last three months making.

He's using his mother's sewing machine to stitch the costumes. Everyday after school he drops his bag on the hard linoleum floor and scampers over to the spare bedroom where he has it all setup and gets straight to work.

Today he's sewing together the finishing touches of his own two piece costume. Stiles can't lie, it's going to be pretty hot, and as he presses the blue and red pieces of spandex close with his hands, the needle frantically stabbing them together with thread -- he can only imagine what Scott's reaction will be.

They'd always gone trick or treating together, up until eighth grade, when Scott made Stiles swear that it'd be their last go round and Stiles begrudgingly complied, unaware that all future Halloween's would be filled to the brim with very very real supernatural antics, dangerous, monster filled ones, and close calls that would make their way into Stiles' nightmares for the remainder of his life.

It was senior year now, and oddly enough things had simmered down in Beacon Hills over the past year. It was if Stiles and Scott and the pack were finally able to put an end to the haunting dangers they'd become so accustomed to ever since Scott got the bite from Peter Hale.

That's right things were peaceful again. Or as peaceful as they'd ever been before sophomore year.

And somehow Stiles was able to get Scott to go back on their no trick or treat policy, because in Stiles words, “We owe this to ourselves buddy, let's celebrate Halloween right this year, and let ourselves have a little fun. Are we too old? Personally I don't think so, but honestly if it weren't for us Beacon Hills would be in shambles! We're basically real life superheros, we have earned that candy, and on Halloween night all of it will be ours!”

And so Scott agreed, they were going to celebrate Halloween like they always had, letting their freak flags fly and not giving a single fuck as long as they got bask in spooky, costume clad, Halloween greatness.

It would be just like old times.

* * *

“Dude you are literally going to shit your pants when you see the costumes. I swear to god getting stabbed in the finger half a dozen times with the sewing needle was worth it because tomorrow night when we finally suit up – we're going to put the rest of Beacon Hills' trick or treaters and sexed up party goers to shame.”

As Stiles and Scott stride down the school hallway, Scott scratches his head idly, mumbling in agreement.

Stiles nudges him in the arm. “Um earth to Scott, I finished our costumes!”

“Whuh, oh yeah? Dude nice. I bet they're awesome.”

“Awesome is an understatement. Like I said, when you weren't listening, you are going to shit yourself. It is because of I, Stiles Stilinski, that you will finally dawn the suit of the caped crusader. Personally I wish you would've gone with Nightwing, but you don't even know who he is so I've done everything in my power to make you the ultimate Bruce Wayne. Ben Affleck is going to seething with jealousy.”

“I was listening... I just... aren't we a little old for that stuff. I mean...”

Stiles stops in his tracks. “You cannot be serious. Like, how...I've been busting my ass, crafting these masterpieces from the ground up for the last three months and now you're getting cold feet?”

Scott sighs. “I mean I didn't actually think you were gonna do it, and now you did and...”

“And what, do you have plans or something? Or are you just too up your own ass to live a little?”

Scott sighs. “Jesus Stiles, I just didn't think it was such a big deal. But clearly this means a lot... to you and I do like free kit-kats, so... whatever I'll do it.”

Stiles frowns. He thought Scott would be ecstatic. That it would be like old times again, but Scott's mood was no better than it'd been since the day Allison died. He feels like he doesn't even know Scott anymore. His face pale and grey, his mind far far away. Stiles wishes he could fix it, but things like this can't be fixed. They always leave a mark, something Stiles knew for the majority of his life.

“Awesome.” Stiles says, disappointment and worry filling inside him.

“Well I'm late to class, just text me the time tomorrow and I'll be over.” Scott says and walks off.

Stiles looks at his watch, class starts in three minutes. _Late my ass._

He sighs and wanders over to his locker, spins and twists his combination into the tiny blue wheel, and pulls up the latch. As he snatches his books out, from behind them he notices the picture of him and Scott dressed up as Freddy and Jason.

Stiles is Jason with his hockey mask pulled up above his forehead holding a plastic machete to Scott's throat, and Scott, red food coloring sopped paper mache plastered to his face, holding two bladed fingers up behind Stiles' head – their eyes are wide, and they're smiling ear to ear. It was the last time they'd gone trick or treating together, four years ago.

Stiles feels a knot form in his throat, but he ignores it, snatching the rest of the books from his locker and slamming it shut.

It was naive to think that things could ever be the same again.

* * *

At lunchtime Stiles sits alone. He takes a bite from his soggy turkey sub he bought from the gas station right before school. He's crouched behind a row of books so the librarian can't spot him. The first time he got caught she'd made him go to the bathroom to finish his meal, which was gracious of her Stiles thought, most teachers and staff reveled in tormenting him for doing even the smallest things wrong, but she was just doing her job. He feels kind of bad scarfing his sub down in her midst, but as long as she can't see him and he avoids creating a trail of crumbs he'll be able to go the rest of the school day without his stomach making horrible burbling noises.

Muffling a burp with his arm, Stiles gets up, stuffs the saran wrap into his pocket, and takes a seat on one of the old leather sofas, his favorite because it's tucked into a far corner of the room. Ms. Hendrick is behind her desk clicking and clacking away at her computer oblivious to Stiles' presence just the way he likes it.

None of his prior years at Beacon Hills High were spent in the library during lunchtime unless him and Scott were doing research on various supernatural curses and baddies. He'd been lucky that him and Scott always had the same lunch period for the first three years, but that was not the case this year. Stiles misses Scott's presence, it always made his days feel lighter because he could release all his pent up energy babbling away at him like there was no tomorrow (and secretly stealing fries from his tray), but now Stiles didn't have that, and because of it every day had become so dull.

He's never hated going to school more than he does now, always snoozing through his alarm right up until the last minute, his body coiled tight with dread from the time he enters his car in the morning, to the time he exits it in the afternoon -- finally home free as runs into the spare room to work on their Halloween costumes.

But as hard as senior year had been for Stiles, he can't imagine what it's been like for Scott. After Allison's death Scott has changed. There are always big bags under his eyes, his mood lethargic, and temper quick to flare, but the most unsettling is how he always seems so far off, always lost deep in thought –- it's at those times Stiles wishes he could jump into Scott's brain and find out what he's thinking about.

Hell, he just wants to give him a hug, a big tight one that lasts too long, like the ones Stile's mom used to give him. Thinking about it now he wishes he'd hugged her back tighter.

That's why Stiles had been so eager about Halloween, it's not just that it's something Stiles has always loved, but it's the perfect night for him and Scott to let loose again, and bond a little. Things between them feel so strained, and it shouldn't be that way, they've been through everything with each other, the best things and the worst things, but now it's different and Stiles can't handle that feeling of distance, feeling like Scott isn't Scott.

Feeling like it's all going to end.

He snaps out of his revererie when his phone starts vibrating, he pulls it out, and nearly yelps – it's Scott.

_mind if I pop over today? i wanna try on my costume._

Stiles stomach leaps. And now he feels bad for going off at Scott earlier, but he'll make up for it.

_if u dont ill totally woop ur ass_

Stiles hits send with a big toothy smile.

* * *

_He's running as fast as he can. From something. He can't see the blood but he can smell it. There's someone behind him. Someone faster than he is. But now Stiles isn't running anymore, because the person behind him has him by the throat._

_"Derek, run!" He screams._

Derek's body thrusts forward in the dark of his room, he's glazed with sweat, and he's greeted by the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. It stings worse and worse every time he wakes up from the nightmare, fangs scratching and grinding the tender skin inside his mouth. This has been happening since the middle of summer. Every. Single. Night.

And why is it Stiles of all people.

Whenever he's had nightmares of people he loves, people he loves in danger, that's just it, it's people he loves, but Stiles Stilinski?

He hates him and his stupid face and his stupid voice and his stupid mouth and the stupid words he forms with it.

But ever since he parted ways with Stiles and Scott, at least temporarily due to the fact there was nothing dangerous for them to team up and fight against -- it's Stiles he can't stop thinking about.

Can't stop _worrying_ about.

Derek gets out of his bed, pulling off his moist tank top, and saunters into the kitchen pouring himself a glass of whiskey from the liquor cabinet.

He gulps it down and tries to forget.

The slashes in his mouth burn.

But the burning isn't as painful as the feeling he has in his stomach. The feeling that--

Something is coming.

Something _bad_.

 


End file.
